


Fonts?

by Caliras



Series: Dyslexic Stan [7]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dyslexia, Dyslexic Stan, Hopeful Ending, Hospitals, Sad Grunkle Stan, Supportive Dipper Pines, Supportive Mabel Pines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 16:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14168454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caliras/pseuds/Caliras
Summary: Stan learns more about dyslexia and ways to combat it.





	Fonts?

_“That being said I’m about to ask you a personal question, you don’t have to answer it, but I’d feel better if you do,” She looked like she already regretted the question before she even asked it, and Stan already knew what it was going to be. With understanding, regret, and comfort in her eyes, she dropped the worst question of the session._

_“Why did you react like that?”_

~~~~~~~

Cold seeped through his body as he stared blankly at Dr. Medicine. ‘Why did you react like that’. The question bounced in his head as he stared at her, until it finally made sense. He closed his eyes, once more wondering if he could make an escape through the nearest window. He didn’t think he could answer it. Not now. Not ever. He opened his eyes again to tell her that, but something stopped him. His traitorous eyes glanced at ~~his~~ the kids. They both looked openly at him, supportive if a bit curious. ‘You got this Grunkle Stan’ and ‘It’s okay’ replayed themselves in his head, with an image of terrible pancakes. ‘Hey, we’re both failures’ said another, proudly displaying smeared blue ink.

“I-,” He began before remembering Mabel crying over a beheaded statue, wondering how people could be so cruel, “It’s just an involuntary reaction.”

Dr. Medicine’s eyes narrowed slightly and he knew that she’d found out something was up. He supposed that she wasn’t happy that instead of skipping the question, he just didn’t say the truth. However, instead of commenting on it, she just wrote something down on her paper.

“Okay, Mr. Pines, would you mind reading us that slip of paper now?” She asked, clearly not letting it go, but letting it pass for the moment.

“Oh, uh, sure,” He looked at the now crumpled up piece of paper in his hands, “um, ‘The young brown cow… played with… the horse?’”

“That is correct Stan,” She said, pleased and writing down another note.

A strange feeling of warmth sparked up in his chest before dying. What? He was certain nothing had happened to warrant that. Mabel and Dipper hadn’t done anything that made it appear. He was tempted to look at his chest before catching himself. He wasn’t sure what that was- no. He knew what it was. He just hadn’t felt it in a long, long time. It felt… foreign now, not unwanted, but weird.

She handed him another slip of paper, trading it for the crumpled one, “And this one?”

Again, Stan stared at the words that refused to make sense until he chased them, “...egg? Tim had a... scrambled egg for breakfast?”

Scribbling down another note, she looked up to say, “Correct, now if you don’t mind me asking, what do you think makes it difficult for you to read?”

Pausing, Stan looking to the letters on the page, comparing them to other words he’d seen before, “It, uh, maybe… I think there are many reasons, but I think one is font.”

“Font?”

“Yeah, the font. These words… crawl across the paper. Sometimes they… appear on the other side of the paper. Cursive writing feels like… a snake that twists and turns, jumbling and stretching. The movement is what makes it difficult to read.” He said, which was like trying to explain how water tastes, before adding as an afterthought, “How do you make them sit still?”

Intrigued, she sat forward, “For all neurotypical people, and most others, words ‘sit still’ naturally, presenting in a clear picture.”

“Wait… seriously?” Was reading really that easy to them?

“Yes, just as trees don’t move, neither do words.”

“Huh.” Sitting back, he felt as if one giant mystery had broken into an unnaturally small answer, “What’s neur-o… neuro-tip-i-cal?”

“When someone is ‘neurotypical’ they have no mental disabilities, 'neurodivergent' is the word for people that do.” She explained, choosing not to comment on his pronunciation.

He hummed lightly, showing that he acknowledged the statement, but not much else. Inside, questions flew past him without materializing, flashing and sliding. The questions died after trying to chase them and left him feeling blank. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with this information. Words didn’t move for other people. He was part of a group of people like him. People that are different. Or was he? He didn’t want to latch on so quickly, maybe he just couldn’t read for another reason. He couldn’t get attached, not yet at least. Not until he was sure. He didn’t want to be left behind. They had a name. Did he want one too?

“Has there ever been a font that’s easier to read than other fonts? There are a couple that are dyslexia friendly, but it is different with everyone. Would you like to see some of them?” She inquired, interrupting his train of thought.

Would he? “Sure, why not. I haven’t seen any that’s ‘easy’ to read. Some seem harder, but none of them are ‘good’.”

“None of them will be perfect, just ‘better’.” She warned, pulling out different cards.

“Good enough for me.” For a moment he wondered about how it would feel to be able to read so easily.

Because here’s the thing, he loved books. He just hated reading. He loved stories that showed perspectives of other people, books that captured the reader and took them along for an adventure. The thought of him without his brother who used to read to him whenever he wanted was horrifying. He really did wish he could read easier.

She gave him the card, taking the other one. Looking at it he… didn’t really see a difference.

“That’s Comic Sans,” Dr. Medicine started, when Stan felt a wave of loathing roll off his brothers shoulders, almost enough to make him flinch. Again. Stuffing down the instinct, he heard her finish, oblivious to Ford, “Though it’s one of the more hated fonts, it’s also one of the dyslexia friendly ones. Do you see a difference?”

Just like that, it felt like a fire extinguisher took out a roaring flame as Ford untensed. Not sure what had caused Ford to feel like that, he stuttered out a ‘no’ regardless. Taking it in stride, she handed him another paper. Stan didn’t see the glare she sent Ford as he looked down at the paper. But he did feel the room go colder by a few degrees. Looking at it, he realized that the words moved at an almost sluggish pace and let out a small gasp.

Breaking out in an almost unnoticeable, triumphant grin, she asked, “Is that one better? It is called ‘Verdana’.”

Looking up at her, he felt awe creep into his eyes as he breathed out, “Verdana?”

The room seemed lighter, as he looked at the words that moved slowly, still moving, but more manageable. He felt his eyes blur and thought that he wasn’t going to be able to read anyways, before he realized. They were just tears. He heard Mabel and Dipper laugh as they tackled him, happy that he found something. Without them, he would have never gone to the doctors, who poked and prodded, interrogated and analyzed.

He’s never been so glad for his family.


End file.
